


Sunday Morning

by Barbarismbeginsathome



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:22:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbarismbeginsathome/pseuds/Barbarismbeginsathome
Summary: All Damien wanted was to enjoy his morning tea in peace.





	Sunday Morning

It was becoming ridiculous, Damien knew that. He sat on the veranda every Sunday morning, book in hand, tea on the 1880 original side table he'd bought from the town's only antiques dealer. The passage from his favorite poem came to mind- "Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair," although he didn't care much for direct sunlight. This had been his Sunday routine for years, weather providing. He considered himself a spiritual man, and he worshiped his creator in his own way. Church had never been for him. 

Nothing was out of the ordinary, and yet Damien could hear Lucien's snorts of laughter from the opened kitchen door that led out onto the veranda.

"Jesus, dad, just go talk to him." 

"Two whom?" Damien asked this innocently, absently stirring his teaspoon as if he wasn't watching the spectacle from next door. It was unseemly, he knew that, and he would fall dead in his chair if he knew Atticus was watching him as well. 

He could not help it, Damien thought to himself. It was not his fault that Atticus' own Sunday ritual- that is to say, washing his car in only a pair of swimming trunks- coincided with his own. 

It started innocently, but Damien could not deny the power a good pair of upper arms and a set of thick thighs had over him. He longed to be that car sometimes, before nearly slapping himself at the nonsense of it. 

"Whatever," Lucien laughed, and Damien could scarcely manage a proper scolding word before the kitchen door closed and he was left with his thoughts and visions. Atticus waved cheerfully. Damien felt a deep blush rising to his cheeks as he tried to make up an excuse to cross the street. He could not find one yet, but there was always next Sunday.


End file.
